Paul opened the door to the warm, spacious log home and as usual, Booger came running to him, purring. He took the bag of leftovers to the kitchen, and fixed the beautiful brown and black tabby a plate of turkey and ham. The cat dug in, and Paul petted him.

"I sure wish you could talk, buddy," he said softly, and left Booger in the kitchen to finish his goodies.

Paul settled into the couch in the living room and turned on the TV to catch the weather report. Picking up the newspaper, he scanned the front page, and yawned. It was so nice to be able to pick up the paper and not see murders and major crimes and destruction splashed all over the front page as was often the case in the city. The peace and quiet here was a tonic to his city-shattered system. And talking cats. He shook his head. No wonder they talked here. People listen to you here; even to cats, it seemed.

"So," came a voice behind him. "Who says I can't talk? You humans are so arrogant sometimes. Did you know that?”

Paul froze. This was not happening.

"Well? You just said you wished I could talk. Now I'm talking, and you're not. Cat got your tongue?" He jumped up on the couch and sat next to Paul, who stared at him.

"Well? Hello? Anybody home in there?"

"Holy ----!! You too?!" Paul finally gasped.

Booger calmly washed his paw. "You'd be surprised at how many cats can talk. I also read and I use your computer when you're not home. We're not dumb animals, like you people like to call us. And by the way, whose idiot idea was it to name me Booger? What an incredibly asinine name for a feline! What were you thinking? How would you like being named Booger? That's nuts! I hate that."

"Uhh...change it to whatever you want," said Paul. "Why didn't you tell me before that you talked and all that?"

Booger shrugged. "Maybe you weren't ready. I don't know. Maybe I didn't feel like it. Maybe I decided to choose my own time for you to know. Oh and by the way, I want to be named Zeus."

"Zeus?" Paul repeated.

"You heard right," said the cat. “Got a problem with that or do I start calling you ‘Dork’ or something?”

"Okay, Zeus."

"Thank you. Also, for your information, if we ate more seafood around here, you might lose a little of that gut there," Zeus pointed out.

Oh great! The cat not only talks, but he's a wiseass! Paul thought.

"I don't have a gut! I'm not overweight," he replied.

"If you say so. Then maybe you need to exercise. You do sit around a lot."

"Uh-oh, you're gonna be investing in a laptop soon," Suzanna warned him. "After Meows shared his secret with me, he didn't have to hide anything anymore, so Zeus may take over your computer. Meows did."

Zeus heard that. "That's part of the reason I said something. I would like to use the computer more, too.”

"Was that Boo -- Zeus?" asked Carrie.

"Yep," Paul smiled. "And I guess he's going to want his own too. Geez! This is going to get expensive. Anything else I need to know? Now’s the time, ladies.”

"Laptops are easier on their paws," said Suzanna. "Desktop computers aren't paw-friendly at all."

"I can't believe I'm having this discussion," said Paul, shaking his head. "Paw-friendly computers. Well, I can handle that. Since I'm retired now, he can have the laptop I got for business a couple years ago."

Zeus perked his ears up. "You already have one? I didn't know that."

"It's been packed away for a while," Paul said to Zeus. "I'll get it out for you tonight."

"Wow. Thanks," Zeus replied.

"Listen to them," giggled Suzanna to Carrie.

"Sound like old friends," laughed Carrie.

"Well, I guess we are," said Paul. "Ladies, I'm going to go dig up a laptop for a cat. We'll see you tomorrow."

They wished each other a good night, and Paul hung up the phone and looked at Zeus.

Zeus looked back in interest.

"Hmmm...I think it's in the upstairs hall closet. C'mon, Zeus."

"Oh no you are NOT putting me in the crate!" yelled Zeus the next morning as Paul prepared to take him over to Carrie's for the day.

"Why? You never fussed before," Paul said.

"Because you were afraid I'd run all over the car and get my head stuck under the brake pedal or something. I couldn't tell you I can just sit in the seat. And how come you didn't scramble me any eggs this morning? I had to eat that fake fishy-flavored cardboard crap."

"What? You want people food now?"

"What's wrong with that?" asked Zeus, as Paul put the crate back on the shelf in the garage. "A sardine omelet topped with sour cream now and then would be nice."

Paul almost gagged. "Yuck!"

Zeus sighed. "Oh, you are going to be lots of fun to train."

"Speaking of training, can't you learn to use the toilet?"

"And cheat myself out of getting to watch you scoop my box? No way," Zeus said.

"Oh, thanks a lot," Paul sighed. "Ok. Let me get this straight. You have your own computer and desk, your own little room in that upstairs storage area with a window no less, you want people food now, more seafood, and you won't make it a little easy on me and learn to use the toilet?"

"I brought his computer, if you have enough room to hook it up," Paul told her.

"Oh, yes, plenty in the computer room. Bring it up here."

Meows, Bart, Belle, Pook, and Saav all looked up with interest as Zeus came in. Abandoning the computers, the cats ran to greet him and get to know him. Carrie and Paul watched as Zeus introduced himself nicely to them and they began to talk.

Carrie hooked up Zeus's computer. "Looks like they're going to get along just fine," she observed.

Paul stepped outside into the blustery winter air, and eyed the bookstore and coffeeshop, The Daily Grind, across the street. Hot chocolate might taste good. Maybe he could find a book or two on unusual cats, he thought as he crossed the street and went inside. It was busy, and he noticed they had finally installed the wireless Internet service, as several people were working away on laptops. It was quite crowded, and as he got his cup, he leaned against the wall, waiting for a table.

"You can join me if you like," said a voice at his elbow. He looked down. Sitting at a corner table for two was a handsome woman with long graying brown hair and twinkling, sky-blue eyes. "No one is sitting there," she said, gesturing to the empty chair across from her.

"She has such cute ones. And there's another two or three that like to visit. I bet I know what the secret to all that is," she smiled at him.

The secret? Paul's blood ran cold and his hand began to shake. Did she know about their unusual talents too? How? Does she have one too? He put his cup down. "What's the secret?"

She pointed across the street. "The seafood place next door. I bet they love those scraps. And, Carrie has a lovely apartment with a nice window seat and those pretty balconies that’re probably a cat’s favorite spots.”

"Sandy Larson," she smiled, shaking his hand with a confident grip. "Nice to meet you."

"Are you from here?" he asked.

She laughed. "Oh, no, I'm a transplant from the city. I came here about six years ago, and I wouldn't go back for all the tea in China."

"I am too. I retired early, and bugged out. This is a wonderful town."

"Oh, it is. The people are what make it. Do you work at anything now or are you just enjoying your retirement?"

"A little of both. I'm enjoying my retirement, and I'm working on a book..."

Sandy looked at her watch. "We've been here for an hour! Do you need to be anywhere?"

Paul laughed. "No, not really. An hour? Wow. What about you? Do you need to be anywhere?"

She shook her head. "No, I just thought I'd come in here for some coffee. It's cold outside."

"Yes, and windy. Goes through you like a knife. Would you like another cup?” he asked.

"Why, thank you, I’d love one more. Just the regular blend,” she smiled.

“That’s pretty easy,” said Paul, getting up. “I won’t be able to mess that order up. I’ll be right back.”

He returned a moment later with two full cups. “I thought I’d try the regular blend this time. I never tried it before. Always went for the cappuccino and flavored ones. Or the minty hot chocolate.”

“I tried a few of those, but just never really took to them, I guess. Or I’m just too old and set in my ways to change now,” Sandy laughed.

"Somehow I doubt that. You know, I've told you all about me, but now it's your turn. Tell me about you," he said.

"There isn't much to tell..."

He found out she was divorced a long time, in her early 50s, and a retired psychiatrist who now worked part-time at the library to keep herself busy. She lived three blocks from the B&B in a little cottage next to the Baptist Church, and knew all of Paul's friends. Sandy especially admired Carrie and Suzanna for being such successful businesswomen. She didn’t know Joyce well, but she knew who she was.